


fallen stars

by TsukiDragneel



Series: Alternate World War Two [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, Character Death, poor russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 23:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17069051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsukiDragneel/pseuds/TsukiDragneel
Summary: zvyozdochka - little star





	fallen stars

It's impossible to believe that it has come to this.

Russia leans against a wall in Moscow, listening to the dull background roar of bombs decimating his capital. Mere miles away, Japan and Germany march towards the capital, fueled and well-fed.

Unlike his citizens, that is.

His large hand gently strokes the hair of a small child, clinging to his side like a koala. He's never seen a koala, but according to England, they're adorable.

England... best not to think about what happened to him.

A bomb hits the street just outside their alleyway, and Russia is flung into the back wall. Blood trickles lazily down his forehead, and the child stares up at him with wide emerald eyes.

This child reminds him far too much of Poland for his own good.

Thick powder fills the air as more and more bombs explode across the city. The child buries his head into Russia's coat and sobs, coming out more as small mewls than a human voice.

Something cold lands on his nose, and he realizes that it isn't just smoke filling the air.

It's snow as well.

"Do you like the snow?" Russia whispers, gently stroking the child's hair. "Is pretty, da?"

"Mama used to play with me in the snow," the child sniffles, small body shaking as he sobs. "Mama and Papa-"

"Hush, zvyozdochka," Russia smiles, almost sadly. "I will protect you."

_If I can protect nobody else, let me at least protect this one child._

"Mama... used to call me that," the child whispers. "Mama..."

Russia wraps his arms around the child, pulling him into a hug.

"I'll protect you. So you can stop crying, da?"

The child stares at him with those (wide, wide) green eyes, a sparkling of hope in their depths.

"Do you promise?"

"I promise to protect you," Russia smiles.

Around them, snowflakes gently fall to the ground, creating a small coating of white snow.

* * *

Russia trudges through the snowy, decimated streets of Moscow, tears sliding out of his violet eyes and making small indentations in the snow.

In his arms, he carries the body of a small child - the child he promised to protect.

"I'm so sorry..." he repeats, over and over, a mantra.

And yet, it isn't his fault, is it? Their lives are so fragile, so breakable, so.... unfit to be in his hands.

"Russia."

He turns, scarf billowing behind him like a cape in this snowstorm.

(Funny, how he's not a hero and yet he has a cape _why can't he protect anything?_ )

England stands before him, dressed in a German military uniform. It doesn't suit him at all.

Russia nods once, dislodging a mound of snow that sat atop his head. "England."

"Who is...?"

England gestures at the child in his arms. Russia may have wrapped a cloth around his head, but that's not enough to hide the dent in his head  _that's all Russia's fault_.

Without warning, Russia sinks to his knees, thoughts whirling around his head.

"I promised to protect him... I can't protect anyone..."

England's green eyes widen with unexpected sympathy, and he wraps his arms around Russia's chest.

"You're waiting for someone who's never coming, aren't you?"

And it is true. He was waiting for  _somebody, anybody,_ to come and save him.

But now Japan and Germany are in his city, and there's nothing left to pray for.

"I know how you feel," England whispers. "I'm sorry. This is my fault."

And the suggestion is so  _absurd_ that Russia promptly bursts out laughing. As if England somehow had a hand in killing all his citizens. As if England killed this child.

No, these are all his sins to bear.

"Are you okay?" England asks, an uncharacteristic hint of worry in his tone.

"No..." Russia whispers. "No, I am not."

* * *

He has to stand and watch, because of course he does.

He has to stand and watch as Japan presses the muzzle of a gun to his leader's head.

"No."

Germany's voice is cold as he takes the gun from Japan's hand.

"Ah, Germany-"

"I want him to do it."

The metal of the gun is cold in his hand as Germany presses it into his palm.

"Germany-"

"He needs to do it."

This is a complete betrayal of everything Russia stands for.

So why is he pressing the gun to his leader's head?

"Russia..."

England stares at the scene with sad green eyes, yet still helpless before Germany.

"Do it, Russia."

"Ah, Germany, are you sure?"

"Ja. Do it."

This isn't right.

There is no way this is right.

And yet...

He’d be lying if he said a part of him didn’t want to do it.   
  
As Russia's finger squeezes around the trigger, he feels wrong, dirty, evil, at this prospect that goes against the role of a nation.   
  
And yet, at the same time, free.

**Author's Note:**

> zvyozdochka - little star


End file.
